Breaking Silence
by DawningStar
Summary: Neville's normal summer visit to St. Mungo's leads to an unusual friendship and a dangerous encounter... Chapter Two uploaded.
1. Visiting Family

Breaking Silence

Breaking Silence   
by [DawningStar][1]

Neville stared unseeingly at the flowers around him, his eyes dry and aching. Beautiful things, they were, magical and ordinary plants both spread in a mazelike pattern, well-kept paths leading through the large indoor garden. He couldn't see much of that from his position underneath a large bush, hidden from anyone passing. But the flowers were beautiful. Plants, he understood. It was somewhat comforting to be among them, even here. 

He'd been able to cry about it, once. Now he only crept away, to his secret place. No one would interrupt him here. He had time to think--rather, time not to think. To keep his mind far away from the pain that accompanied any thought of the reason he came in the first place. 

It was his grandmother's idea, coming here once or twice every summer. Neville knew he ought to feel the same way, feel some sort of loyalty toward his parents. He did love them. They were his parents, after all, and they'd been great Aurors once, fighting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named for years before he was born...but he didn't want to see them now, not that way. 

Unbidden, the memory of his father's face rose in his mind, slack-jawed and terrified as the memory of that last night replayed once again. There was no telling what would trigger it, the horrifying screaming...worse when compared with the pictures of the strong wizard before. 

Neville's head snapped up, afraid someone was watching him, even here. Just paranoia, he told himself, seeing no one. 

Except--a glimpse of movement, behind him. Turning fast, he spotted a girl perhaps a year or two younger than he was, her hair the color of damp earth. It curled in the humidity, framing a thin face with large brown eyes. "How long have you been there?" he demanded, knowing his face was turning bright red with anger and embarrassment. How dare she intrude on him like that? And judging from how silent she was now, she might well have been sitting there for ten minutes and he wouldn't have noticed her. 

She stepped backward, a frightened look on her face. He'd taken her for another visitor, but at a second glance he saw that she wore the same loose uniform that all the patients wore, except that hers was dyed in shades of green much like the surrounding leaves. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap," he added, in a gentler tone. Maybe she hadn't meant to come in on him. Just because he considered this bush his thinking place didn't mean no one else could enter the garden--it was a public area, after all. 

The girl considered that for a moment, then nodded in place of a comment. 

"Why are you in here?" 

"I...take care of the garden," she whispered, barely audible. 

Neville frowned slightly. "But aren't you a patient here?" 

She seemed to be deciding how she could answer that with the fewest words. "I like plants. They let me." A jerk of her head indicated the hospital staff in general. 

"I'm awfully sorry," Neville apologized. "I didn't think anyone was in here." 

She nodded again. 

"I--I should probably leave." He crawled out from under the bush. She followed. It was astonishing how quietly she could move. 

"I think you're very brave," came her soft voice, stopping him in his tracks. 

He turned. "Why would you think that?" he asked incredulously. "You don't even know me. Believe me, I'm not brave." 

"In the summer you come here--often." She seemed to be struggling to get the words out. "No one comes here. People are afraid, or ashamed of us." 

She was right, Neville admitted privately, about that at least. "That doesn't make me brave." 

"Braver than them." She smiled, a scared, shy smile. "Could you--could you talk with me again? When you come?" 

Her sentences seemed to be getting longer, Neville noted. "Yes, I will. If it would be all right with the doctors and everything." 

She nodded again, the smile fading just slightly. "I don't want to talk with them," she said, her voice fading even more, "but they say I should talk." 

Just then the green door swung open loudly. "Is Neville Longbottom in here?" an attendant asked in the same soothing voice they all used. 

"That's their 'don't upset the crazy person' voice," she mouthed almost silently. 

Neville understood it perfectly, since they had already been talking so softly, and covered a laugh. "I'm in here," he called, stepping onto the path where he could be seen. 

"Good. Your grandmother says you need to go home now." 

"All right." 

As they walked down the white hallway away from the green-colored door to the garden, the assistant inquired rather tentatively, "Did you see anyone in there?" 

"Yes," Neville replied, "there was a girl...what was she doing in there?" He might as well get some clarification from someone not so loath to speak. 

"Laurel takes care of the garden...it's the only thing she will do, and that only when she's alone. Sometimes she stays when just one or two people are in there, but hardly anyone sees our Laurel. She's been here longer than almost anyone else, except your parents. All her life since she was three." 

Laurel, Neville told himself to remember. He'd just realized that he had never asked the girl's name during their conversation. "Would it be all right if I visited her again? She said she wanted me to, and--" 

The attendant stopped dead, catching Neville by surprise. He stumbled and barely recovered himself. "She said?" the attendant asked intently. "You actually talked to her?" 

"Well, yes," said Neville defensively. "Is something wrong with that?" 

The attendant laughed. "Kid, Laurel doesn't talk. We know she can talk, we've heard her in there talking to her trees, but humans...nope. She hasn't said a word to anyone since the day she got here. If you can get her to talk, you're a miracle worker." 

"Well, she didn't say much," Neville admitted, "but she did talk to me." 

"Then very likely you'll have full permission to go in there whenever you like--under monitoring, of course." 

The attendant had begun walking again, and Neville had to trot to keep up. "How would I go about doing that?" 

"Well, since I'm in charge of Laurel, you could start by asking me," he smiled down. 

"Okay," Neville said hesitantly, "can I come back to see Laurel again, then?" 

"You may. Please check in at the desk when you arrive next time, and I'll get you a pass." The attendant clapped him on the shoulder. "I hope you can get through to her. She's too young to live her life locked up here." 

Neville nodded uncertainly, and then they had reached the entryway and his grandmother. 

It came as rather a surprise to his family when he asked to return to the hospital a few days later, but when he explained about Laurel they agreed. A pass was waiting for him at the front desk, giving him permission to visit Laurel and be in the common areas of the hospital during normal visiting hours; it would also, the witch at the desk explained, record and report any behavior which might be harmful to anyone. 

He knew the way back to his parents' room by now, and the garden door was just in the next hall. Nervously, he entered it and looked around for any sign of the girl. 

A small rustle of leaves attracted his attention to where she stood, a hesitant smile on her face. Neville had the feeling that she had meant to make the sound. "Hi," he greeted her, keeping his voice low. 

"You came back," she said, barely above a whisper, the smile growing slightly. 

"I said I would, didn't I?" He returned her smile, and carefully pulled a small package from his robes. "I brought you something." 

Her eyes widened, but she made no move to come closer. He walked over into the plants where she stood and offered it to her. "I thought you might like it...I mean, I figured you didn't get many new things here..." Neville winced at his stumbling speech and stopped talking as she gingerly accepted the gift. 

Laurel stared at the book--_The Magic of Plants in the Tropics_, from Neville's own collection--and the small sachet of seeds for some of the plants discussed, and lifted her large brown eyes to meet his in wonder. "Thank you," she whispered. 

"It's nothing," he said uncomfortably. "Er...I realized I never asked your name the last time we talked...it's Laurel, isn't it?" 

She nodded. "Laurel Latifal," she agreed softly. 

"Latifal?" Neville asked, startled. "Then it was your parents who--?" But he stopped at the look of fear in her eyes. 

The Latifals, like his own parents, had been attacked by Voldemort's supporters after the Dark Lord's downfall. Kept alive for a while under the Imperius curse, their house had been used as a refuge for Death Eaters on the run from the Ministry. Later they'd been found dead in their own yard, evidence of the Cruciatus Curse having been used on them--and their young daughter, hidden in a thick bush, terrified. Neville remembered hearing about it, remembered how like his own situation it had seemed...but apparently Laurel had never recovered. 

She'd been two or three at the time. That made her his age, or even a year older. She didn't look it, but Neville realized that the impression of a small child wasn't because she was particularly small, but came from the way she held herself...shrunken in, as though she was trying to make herself a smaller target, terrified of everything still. 

"Maybe you should put the book away somewhere," he suggested, hoping she would forget his injudicious remark. She seemed to, nodding and leading him through the garden. 

Neville didn't even see the door until she opened it, apparently a panel of the garden wall, leading into a room not much different from his parents'. White walls, white furniture, white floor...except that here, unlike any other room in the place, probably, tiny tubs of earth covered every available surface. Some held plants barely sprouting, some were as yet empty, some held older plants almost ready to transplant into the garden. A second door led from it, probably into another sterile white corridor, but it had been blocked with several pieces of furniture. You'd have to be awfully determined to get through that door. 

She read his stunned face and smiled shyly, as she put the book carefully on a shelf and laid the seeds atop it. "My room," she explained unnecessarily. "I work here sometimes, with the plants..." 

He tried to identify some of the plants, then gave up and followed her back out again. "What do you want to do?" he asked, "while I'm here?" 

There was a moment's pause, then, "Some of...the people here...get together around this time of day. If...if you'd like to meet them...I don't normally go, but..." She fell silent again. 

Neville covered a wince. He liked Laurel, but to see the other inhabitants of the wing...still, they might not be so bad. And his parents probably wouldn't be there; the attendant had told him they rarely left their rooms. "All right," he agreed, trying hard to keep his reluctance out of his voice. He wasn't sure he had entirely succeeded; Laurel led the way out of the garden, her expression indecipherable. 

The lounge was much like every other part of the hospital, excepting Laurel's garden--white and bare. White couches stood against the walls, and there were no tables. Only two people were there, a blond lady with bright blue eyes who might have been rather pretty were it not for the lost expression on her face, and a white-robed attendant. Laurel crept noiselessly to the corner of the couch farthest from the door, and Neville followed her. She seemed to be trying to vanish into it, but she smiled faintly at the patient. 

The adult returned a smile almost as uncertain as Laurel's own, but the attendant stood, beaming hugely. "Laurel!" she exclaimed, "it's so wonderful to see you here!" A considering gaze was turned on Neville. "And you'd be her visitor? Young Neville Longbottom?" 

He nodded, feeling nervous for no particular reason. 

"Well, it's very nice of you to come. Let me introduce you to Polly, here." 

"Pleased to meet you," Neville greeted the patient. She reluctantly opened her mouth to speak--but only an unintelligible confusion of sounds emerged. 

"She can't talk," the attendant hastily interposed, "at least not in one language. She was trying for a universal translating spell, and it went wrong--we think. Polly can't tell us. She understands everything, but when she tries to talk, or write, it comes out in a whole jumble of languages. Some of them aren't even human. She and Laurel get along rather well, though." 

The door opened again just then, sparing Neville from any response, and another attendant entered--a wizard with what looked a bit like a large gray dog. Except its eyes, and teeth... 

Almost everyone at Hogwarts had studied werewolves rather closely after Lupin's revelation in Neville's third year. Even Neville remembered some of the characteristics. This was a werewolf. 

Neville took a step back in shock, placing himself between Laurel and the newcomer, before he thought to wonder why a werewolf would be in wolf form now, when it wasn't the full moon and certainly wasn't nighttime. "It's all right," the wizard said hurriedly. "He isn't dangerous." 

The wolf whined softly and looked at Neville with a very human expression of sorrow in his green-gold eyes. 

"Is he a werewolf?" Neville asked, confused. 

"We call him a were-human, actually. He was a werewolf, but he tested a potion that was supposed to cure or alleviate the effects--and it didn't exactly work. So he's a harmless wolf with a human mind most of the time, and a human with a werewolf's mind at the full moon," the attendant explained. "We don't know if his bite is dangerous when he's human, or what it does if so, but he's perfectly safe like this. His name is Rufus." 

"Oh." Embarrassed, Neville apologized, "I'm sorry. I guess I didn't think." The wolf padded over and touched Neville's hand with a cold nose in obvious acceptance. 

Neville sat beside Laurel, looking over at her worriedly. She'd hardly moved a muscle since they arrived. Her face was pale and she trembled slightly, her eyes fixed not on the werewolf but on the attendants. 

Rufus pushed his nose under her hand with a sympathetic whine, and Laurel stroked him once. She didn't draw her hand back, letting it rest on his dark-furred head. 

A high-pitched, almost hysterical chortle sounded from the hall outside, and a fourth patient walked into the room--if he could be said to walk, with his feet hovering a full three feet above the ground. Forced almost to crawl through the ordinary door, the newcomer was laughing nonstop, his eyes fixed on the attendant who entered with him. "That's funny," he choked out through the giggles, "that's funny!" The attendant wore an expression of long-suffering patience, and didn't reply. 

The floating man spotted Neville, and bent down to see him better. "A visitor!" he exclaimed. 

"Yes," Neville said, "I'm--" 

But the man burst into peals of laughter again. "A visitor--here!" he managed to get out. Puzzled, Neville looked to the attendant. 

"An allergic reaction to billywig stings," the wizard said in an undertone. "Not usually too much of a problem, but we haven't been able to get him down--or back to normal." 

"Who wants to be normal?" the man interrupted loudly. "Normal's boring, if you folks are any example! Call me Billy, kid," he added to Neville. The attendant rolled his eyes, apparently at the name--probably chosen after the stings--and catching the reaction, Billy laughed louder than ever. 

"Well!" the attendant witch said brightly, clapping her hands together. "I'm just thrilled to see you all here. This is Neville Longbottom, our visitor; and Neville, you've met Polly and Rufus and Billy and Laurel, of course. I'm Nancy, and these are Steven and Jonathan." 

Just then there was a crash out in the hall, and almost immediately a man's voice calling "Sorry about that!" Another patient walked into the room, black-haired and not particularly tall, his uniform spattered with fresh food stains. "Sorry I'm late," he apologized. "My door was stuck, and then it opened just as the food cart was passing, and I accidentally knocked it over--and then on the way here I took a wrong turn and ended up in the secondary lounge instead--and then I ran into the laundry cart." He shifted uncomfortably with a glance down at his stained clothes, and finally headed toward a couch. The cushions were all covered in plastic anyway. 

The attendants shared a look of resignation, as though they'd expected nothing different. "Well, we're just glad you could make it," Nancy smiled. Her continual cheerfulness was beginning to get on Neville's nerves. "Meet Neville Longbottom, our visitor." 

The patient had been just about to sit, but at the introduction he lurched up again with a grin. Somehow he managed to get his foot tangled underneath the couch and sprawled facedown on the floor. "Oops," he muttered, pushing himself upright. "Er...sorry. I'm Alexander--call me Alex." 

"Alexander the Great, who can't manage a step without falling over something," Billy added with a whoop of laughter. 

"Yes, well," Alex muttered. "If I was six feet up in the air I'm sure I'd never trip over anything either." The rejoinder sent Billy into hysterics. 

"Anyway," Nancy said, sternly enough to make even Billy give her some semblance of attention. "I don't suppose any of you have anything you wanted to discuss?" 

There was no reply. Laurel hadn't moved, and Polly was staring vaguely off into thin air. Alex was holding perfectly still for fear of another accident, and Billy was silently grinning at nothing. Rufus was the only patient who really seemed to be listening to the attendant, and he obviously couldn't answer. 

But she didn't seem to expect a response. "All right, then," she smiled, "Alex, you may go first. How was your day?" 

Alex fidgeted, with a glance around as though he half-expected the building to fall in on him. "It was, er, pretty good, I guess," he started. 

"Unlucky, is what it was!" Billy broke in with a noise that could not be called anything but a giggle. Neville stared at him for a moment. Giggling was annoying when Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown did it at Hogwarts. It was nothing less than scary when done by a full-grown man. 

Nancy glanced at Jonathan, Billy's attendant, with barely disguised exasperation. Jonathan whipped out his wand and muttered the words to a strong Calming Charm, and Billy's uncontrollable laughter faded, though he couldn't seem to stop grinning. 

Turning back to Alex, Nancy smiled reassuringly. "Go on," she prompted. 

"Well, I...spent most of the day in my room," Alex said hesitantly. "I was cleaning up the mess that bird made yesterday, remember." 

From Steven's faint grimace, he obviously did. Neville felt more than a little confused. 

"Frieda forgot to bring the lunch cart by," Alex continued, "so I left to go find her. I thought she might be in the kitchen but I didn't think I should probably go in there again..." 

This time there was a general sigh of relief. Neville looked to Nancy for an explanation, but she was listening intently to Alex. 

"I noticed Yeira not far from the kitchens, and I asked her if she knew where Frieda might be--" 

But the patient was cut off abruptly by the sudden failure of one of the levitation spells holding the candles aloft. It happened to be just above Alex--and fell directly on his head, splattering hot wax everywhere and catching his dark hair on fire. 

There was an incomprehensible shriek from Polly, while Billy burst into renewed laughter and the attendants sprang forward to extinguish the fire. Water from their wands soaked everyone anywhere near Alex. 

Dripping wet, his hair singed, Alex managed a shaky smile. "Er...maybe I'd better head on back to my room," he suggested. "I mean..." 

Steven nodded a little too quickly, wringing out the hem of his robes. "You might be right. In fact, we should probably end today's session early." 

"All right," said Nancy. "Neville, I'm sorry, but we do need to go and take care of things." A glance took in the soggy robes and the water collecting in puddles on the floor. 

"Of course," Neville agreed at once, "I understand." 

Nancy flashed him a grateful smile and stood, helping Polly over the water. The other patients and attendants followed quickly, until only Neville, Laurel, and Alex remained. The dark-haired man hesitated at the door, looking back at the younger pair. 

"I...well, sorry about that," he apologized. "I didn't mean to break it up." 

"It's all right," Neville assured him. "I don't think Laurel liked it much anyway." The girl was still pale, just beginning to regain her color, and seemed not to hear Alex at all. 

"No, she doesn't. I was surprised she came. I normally don't either, but I heard there was a visitor here and..." He shrugged. "We don't get many visitors around here, so I was interested." 

Neville recalled what Laurel had told him and nodded, feeling faintly guilty. Only his grandmother's dedication had kept him coming to see his own parents. 

"Look, you haven't really seen much of the place. If you wanted, I could show you around a bit sometime," Alex offered. "I understand if you'd rather not..." 

"I'd like that," Neville smiled. 

Alex looked startled, then an expression of delight crossed his face. "Really? Great! When?" 

"Maybe the next time I come," replied Neville with a sidelong glance toward Laurel. 

"Okay. See you then!" and Alex hurried away. 

Laurel let out a faint sigh of relief, and Neville turned to look at her. "Don't you like Alex?" he inquired in surprise. 

She looked around the room as though to be sure there was no one there, then replied in something below a whisper, "I like him all right, it's just...people make me scared, I suppose." 

"Then you don't mind my going with him for a while?" 

"Of course not." Laurel smiled timidly. "You ought to see more. Not everyone here is...like me." 

Neville frowned, confused. "What do you mean?" 

She looked away, her voice barely audible. "Well, I'm insane. Most aren't." 

Tentatively, Neville reached over to pat her hand comfortingly. Laurel started slightly at the touch, but didn't move her hand. "I don't think you're crazy at all. I think you're a perfectly nice girl who's had some really bad experiences, that's all." 

Laurel turned back toward him, smiling, her expression for once almost unguarded, and Neville was surprised to realize how pretty she was. He cleared his throat uneasily and glanced at the clock on the wall of the lounge. Laurel caught the look and murmured, "Maybe you'd better go. Your grandmother will be getting worried." 

Neville nodded. "Maybe so." He stood up, strangely reluctant to leave. "D'you want me to walk you back to your room?" 

"That's okay," she whispered. "I can get back by myself." 

He nodded, and started for the door, then turned around again. "I'll be back tomorrow," he promised. 

Laurel smiled, and Neville walked away feeling happier than ever he had before on a visit to St. Mungo's. 

   [1]: mailto:dawn@ccaonline.com



	2. A World of White, A World of Green

Breaking Silence, Part Two

Breaking Silence, Part Two   
by [DawningStar][1]

The witch at the front desk looked faintly startled to see him back again, but she smiled and waved him on through. Reaching Laurel's green-painted door, Neville was surprised to find it standing slightly open. He looked in, to find Alex inside, seated against one wall and apparently talking to the plants. 

The patient turned at the sound of the squeaking door, and grinned broadly at the sight of Neville. "So you did come back!" he exclaimed. 

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?" Neville asked, a little defensively. 

Alex leaned back against the wall. "Oh, you know, you might've come back to your senses once you left the hospital and realized normal people don't associate with people like us." His grin made it clear the statement was meant to be a joke, but there was an all too serious edge to his tone. 

"Well, I wouldn't do that," Neville responded lamely, unable to find anything to say to the remark. "Is Laurel here?" 

"I assume so. I haven't seen her, but that's hardly unusual." 

Neville nodded and searched the thick foliage of the garden for a glimpse of Laurel, but there was no sign of the girl. "Laurel?" he called uncertainly. 

A bush rustled, and she slowly emerged from behind it. "So you were listening to me after all?" Alex teased gently. 

Laurel managed a faint smile, then looked to Neville. Uncertainly the visitor suggested, "I thought maybe I could go ahead and take that tour, Alex...since you're here, and all." 

Alex's grin faded. "About that...I realized maybe no one had told you why I'm here. You may not want to do that after all." 

Neville frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?" 

"Well, I'm kind of...unlucky. Accidents tend to happen a lot around me." 

"I'd noticed," Neville agreed, still puzzled. "That's not why you're here, is it?" 

"Well...yes. It's an effect of a miscast spell combined with a Malaclaw bite...no one could figure out how to get rid of the effects, and no one wanted me around them, so I ended up here." Alex shrugged. "So I understand if you don't want to be near me. I don't want anything bad to happen to you." 

Neville considered that for a moment. "Thank you for thinking of me, but I'd still like to find out about this place. Unless you've changed your mind, the tour's still on." 

A brilliant smile lit Alex's face once more. "Really? Great!" he exclaimed, getting to his feet. He straightened, began to take a step, failed to notice that his shoe had caught in a trailing vine, and promptly fell over. By the time he righted himself, his face was rather flushed with embarrassment. "Er..." 

"Don't worry about it," Neville told him. "At least you have an excuse. Most of us are just clumsy." He waited, uncertain how the joke would be taken. 

But Alex let out a chuckle. "Good point, Neville." 

Looking back at Laurel, Neville inquired, "Do you want to come? I mean, I know you don't usually like to get out, but I thought maybe..." 

Her brown eyes grew large with fear, but she glanced at Alex, then back to Neville, and slowly nodded. 

"I've never seen you this responsive, Laurel," Alex commented in surprise. "Normally you just pretend not to hear us." 

Laurel illustrated the remark by ignoring it entirely. Alex let out a sigh and led the way out of the garden, closely followed by Neville and Laurel. 

"We call this the Garden Hall, for obvious reasons," Alex began as they emerged from the garden. "The garden itself is just Laurel's Garden, and it's about the best place in the wing if you want some quiet. Though we hardly ever actually see Laurel in there." He glanced at Laurel, who hung slightly behind Neville. "Not that I blame you for wanting to keep away from everyone," he added in a softer tone. "From what I've heard..." Alex shook his head and fell silent for a moment. 

Finally he continued, "My room's on this hall, too. There's also a couple of storage closets and a few empty rooms," pointing each out to Neville, "and after that it leads into the Long Hall." 

Neville looked up and down the connecting corridor in faint bewilderment. It wasn't really all that lengthy, certainly not long enough to fit the name. Only a few dozen feet, with double doors he knew led into the main part of the hospital at one end, and the lounge at the other. Two secondary corridors led off it, in addition to a large attendants' station and a few other doors, none of which looked like patients' rooms. 

Alex gave him a somber smile. "It started as a joke," he said quietly. "Most of the names did, I think. The long haul--a long journey, a hard trip. You see it?" 

Slowly, Neville nodded. He did. This was the way every patient had to enter the wing, and they all stayed for years. Most would never leave. 

The dark-haired man shook off the sudden melancholy mood and waved toward the last door before the entrance to the rest of the hospital, near the attendants' station. "That's the secondary lounge. Most people visit us from there--when they come at all. They don't like seeing anyone in here, like this. Near it, behind their station, the attendants have a little section where they stay, including the kitchen and a few bedrooms so they can spend the night if they have to." 

"Do they do that often?" inquired Neville. 

"No," Alex said, "they prefer not to, and most of us are fairly self-sufficient--we don't really need constant supervision, anyway, not at night. There are a few people who make rounds of the wing from the main parts of the hospital. If a little reluctantly," he added, turning to look back at Neville with a grin--then he tripped for no apparent cause and tumbled to the polished white floor. 

Neville suppressed a wince, hoping Alex wouldn't apologize again. The adult seemed to be ashamed of his peculiar affliction, but for him to apologize unnecessarily only made it worse. 

But Alex scrambled to his feet without mentioning the incident. Neville wondered suddenly how much of the embarrassment was caused by the attendants' all too obvious irritation with the accidents. 

Alex indicated the farther corridor. "That's mostly empty," he told Neville, "a lot of the wing is. They try to keep people in the main wing as much as possible. They're afraid it might get overcrowded here, since no one ever leaves." 

Eyes widening, Neville gasped without thinking, "No one? But Polly and Billy, and Rufus--and you--someone'll find a cure for you, won't they? I mean, it's semi-permanent, they can't just keep people in here--!" He fell silent, realizing how rude the outburst had been. "That is...I--I thought--" 

"You're just digging yourself deeper," Alex advised with a short laugh. "Theoretically, all of us are only in here until we're cured one way or another, yes. But there's been maybe one recorded release from the place. They just added that semi- to the name so we wouldn't give up all hope. No one's really trying to find any cures for us anymore. No one cares enough." The adult wore a cynical expression, covering some long-buried pain. 

Neville turned to look at Laurel, still silently following him. How could anyone just forget about her, leave her here alone? 

How could anyone want to forget about his own parents? some part of his mind asked sternly, and he barely kept from wincing. I'll do better, he told it. I'll...I'll visit more often...I won't complain about it anymore... 

Alex was still watching Neville, his eyes oddly speculative. But then he turned away and led them toward the near hallway. "Most of us are roomed this way. I'm second to the right--next to the cleaning supplies, oddly," he added with a grin. "Laurel's last on the left, though no one can get in through her door anymore. We suppose she's managed some way into the garden, but no one knows what or where." 

He knew, Neville realized, and understood just how much trust the frightened girl had placed in him. He wasn't about to betray it. 

As they turned the corner into the hall, Neville noted that Alex made no mention of his own parents' room, the first on the left. Instead he pointed out Rufus's heavily reinforced door, "for full moon nights, mostly," and Polly's room. 

"And down there--" he was beginning, but broke off sharply. Neville glanced at him, startled, then followed his gaze to an opening door. A black-haired woman who looked little older than a girl stepped into the hallway. She wore a patient's uniform, but seemed strangely out of place. Perhaps it was the way she stared around blankly. 

Alex caught up to her in a few long strides, exclaiming, "Yeira! What are you doing out here?" 

She turned toward them, looking right past Alex. Her eyes were oddly pale, a gray-blue color. "Where'd you go, Daniel?" she asked vaguely. "I thought you were back outside this time of night." 

"No, Yeira, it's me, Alex," he corrected her, touching her hand. "Remember? Alexander?" 

Yeira's eyes cleared slightly, and she finally seemed to see Alex. "Alexander?" she asked doubtfully. "And Frank?" turning to Neville. 

Neville started. She thought he was his father? 

"No," Alex said quickly, "this is Neville. He's a visitor, isn't that nice of him?" 

"Oh," she said, her eyes going blank again. "Yes." Yeira looked up, at something no one else could see. "Aren't the stars pretty?" 

"The stars are very pretty when they're out," Alex told her gently, beginning to lead her toward the attendants' station in the Long Hall. Neville followed, feeling rather sorry for the patient and wondering what had thrown her so far from reality; Laurel crept quietly behind him, still silent and pale. 

Alex rapped on the door. It opened a moment later, Nancy peering out curiously. "Yeira!" she said in surprise. "There you are! Varice has been looking simply everywhere for you. Alex, thank you so much for bringing her back." The attendant stepped out of the doorway and noticed Neville and Laurel. Her face registered surprise for an instant before she controlled it and smiled at the visitor. "And whatever are you doing here, Neville?" 

"Oh--Alex is showing me around the wing," Neville replied. "I've never really seen all that much of it." 

Nancy's smile flickered for a moment, but she leaned back into the room and called, "Steven, Yeira's here. Do you want to take her down to Varice?" 

Neville could have sworn he heard a muttered "Not really" from within before the man he'd seen with Rufus before joined Nancy at the door, smiling down at Neville. "Hey, Neville, Alex. Good to see you out here, Laurel." 

The girl shrank behind Neville and made no response. Steven didn't seem to find that unusual, turning to Yeira with a smile. "And you've been driving us all up the wall, running off again, Yeira. Back to Varice with you now." 

"I'll come too," Alex volunteered. "Sorry to cut the tour short, Neville, but we're mostly done anyway..." 

"That's all right," Neville assured the adult, who grinned at him and set off with Yeira and Steven. Neville looked after them for a moment, only then realizing that Alex hadn't had a single accident since he'd seen Yeira... 

"You took a tour of the place with Alex?" Nancy asked, not quite frowning. When Neville nodded, she let out a sigh and muttered "Well, you're braver than I am, young Longbottom," under her breath. 

Neville was about to protest when he remembered Laurel's similar comment and fell silent, wondering. 

Nancy smiled yet again, opening the door wider. "You can come in if you want. Since you're seeing the wing, you might as well see all of it." 

He turned to Laurel, to find her backing away. She shook her head at him, silently refusing to enter the attendants' station. 

Neville frowned slightly in bewilderment. "I'll meet you in the garden?" he suggested. 

Laurel nodded, with a weak smile, and next moment was silently hurrying away. 

"You've really gotten through to her," Nancy commented, "I think this is the most talkative she's ever been." She beckoned Neville through the white door. 

Within, richly varnished wooden paneling lined the walls, and the floor was covered by a thick maroon rug. "It's not white," Neville said in surprise before he thought, then wished he could take back the comment. 

"It does get a little monotonous, doesn't it," Nancy agreed ruefully. "It's standard procedure--white holds the cleaning spells best. But this is our staff room, so we can decorate it as we like." 

Neville nodded in understanding and continued to look around. Several well-stuffed large chairs and round wooden tables were placed around the small room, and a spelled cold-box stood in one corner for drinks. Two other doors led out, refreshingly plain wood. Even the door he'd entered through, Neville saw as Nancy closed it, wasn't painted white on this side. 

Nancy was already headed for a second door. As she opened it, Neville caught a glimpse of a long counter, tiny images set into it every few inches. "I've got monitor duty today," she told Neville apologetically, "but no one will mind if you look around here a bit." The attendant hesitated, then added slowly, "There are records in the back room...it might help you with Laurel if you knew what's gone on with her." Then the door closed with a soft click, and Neville was alone. 

It was a long moment before Neville moved hesitantly toward the indicated door. It seemed like prying, somehow, even if he did have permission of a sort. Would Laurel mind if he read her records? he wondered, hand on the knob. She'd already shown that she trusted him more than anyone else for more than a decade, from what the attendants and Alex had said, though he still had very little idea as to why. 

She wouldn't mind, he decided finally. Probably she wanted him to know, but she'd have trouble telling him herself, quiet as she was...He opened the door. 

Nearly every inch of space in the room was taken up by shelves, the aisles between them hardly wide enough to fit through sideways. Bewildering numbers of books and folders filled the shelves, each neatly labeled. Neville stared for a long instant, then walked slowly into the room and shut the door behind him. 

It wasn't hard to find the L section, as the shelves were alphabetized by patient's last name. There were several items marked with Laurel's name--summaries, attendants' notes, and detailed recordings of each year she'd been in the hospital. Neville carefully chose the first folder of attendants' notes and a book titled _Latifal, Laurel: Summary of Admittance and Subsequent Treatment_, and edged his way out of the shelves to a clear space opposite the door. 

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, he opened both. The notes were cross-referenced by date and easy to read, in a neat script that had to be a magical transference from the original papers. 

_Laurel won't talk to anyone. She refuses to eat or drink while anyone is present in the room, and tries to hide whenever she hears footsteps. We don't know exactly what happened the night her parents were killed, but obviously the trauma of seeing it has made her unwilling to trust anyone. I suggest the use of a Memory Charm,_ read a note not far from the beginning. It was the one right after that in a different handwriting which made Neville stare at the page for several long minutes. 

_Considering the effects on young Neville Longbottom, I don't think it's a good idea for Laurel. She's almost three, and she might not recover even as well as he has. A Memory Charm powerful enough to make her forget her parents would be powerful enough to wipe her brain entirely._

Neville stared at the words until they blurred, eyes wide. There was the answer to why he had trouble remembering anything, why he did poorly in school. But his grandmother had never said-- He scrambled for the shelf again, almost panting in his haste. There--beside his parents' names were a very few books labeled Longbottom, Neville. He pulled out the first, fingers trembling, and skimmed through it. 

_Though admitted to this wing in the hopes that his presence would trigger his parents' memories of happier times, this has not happened. Neville is refusing to eat, and we are considering the use of a Memory Charm on him. _

Neville has forgotten almost everything. He no longer is so wary of everyone and everything, but he also has forgotten how to walk, and has stopped using the words he had known. We are reteaching him, and we hope that the Memory Spell will have no ill effects. 

There are signs of forgetfulness in Neville, probably a side effect of the spell, though he can now walk again. He forgets where he places his toys, and cannot remember things we told him only a few minutes ago. 

Neville has been released from the Semi-Permanent Wing into the custody of his relatives. He is mostly recovered, though he may have trouble remembering things all his life. Apparently, Memory Charms are harmful to very young children, especially once they have learned to walk and talk well. 

Neville replaced the records, his mind buzzing. So that was why. And if they hadn't done it, would he still be here, like Laurel, terrified of everyone? If they had used the charm on Laurel, would she be a student at Hogwarts now, even with the memory problems? And _why_, why hadn't his grandmother told him? 

He wasn't sure how long he'd stayed among the records, but it was past time for him to get back to Laurel, or she might start thinking that he'd abandoned her. Neville opened the door into the attendants' lounge. 

One attendant was there, a pale-haired wizard Neville recognized--the one who'd first told him about Laurel. He smiled to see Neville and greeted him, "I'm glad you're here. Nancy told me about how much you've done with Laurel. Want to have a seat?" 

Faintly uneasy, Neville sat in one of the armchairs. "I haven't really done anything," he said. "I just...talked." 

"Whatever you did or didn't do, you're the best hope we've had for Laurel in years," the wizard informed him firmly. "I'm Renard, by the way--I don't think I told you that earlier?" 

Neville shook his head. "I...er, I'm glad you think I'm helping Laurel. Maybe she just needed someone her own age." 

"That's possible," Renard agreed amiably. 

There was a pause. Then, looking at the attendant, something made Neville ask, "How long have you been working here?" 

Renard shot a curious glance at Neville. "About seven months. Why?" 

"Just wondering," muttered Neville, standing up. "I'd better go, I promised Laurel I'd be back soon..." 

"Of course. Go ahead, then." Renard smiled again, and Neville left the room. 

Laurel was waiting for him in the garden, stepping out from her plants as soon as he appeared. Her expression was faintly worried, afraid perhaps that he might tell her he never wanted to come back. 

Neville hurried toward her. "I wanted to thank you for coming with me," he told her earnestly. "I know you don't like going out of your garden, but I really appreciated it." 

A wavering smile appeared, and Laurel murmured an acknowledgement that even listening closely Neville couldn't catch. He didn't ask what she had said, inquiring instead, "Now that I've seen the rest of the place, will you show me your garden? It's by far the most interesting part, after all." 

The smile widened, carrying into her deep brown eyes. Neville knew that this garden was what she loved, and surely she rarely got a chance to show off its treasures. 

Watching him as though still a little fearful of offending, she took his hand and led him into the green foliage that made up her world. 

   [1]: mailto:dawn@ccaonline.com



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